


Shopping.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels), valuna



Series: LJ roleplaying [7]
Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-19
Updated: 2004-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels, https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/pseuds/valuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean and Viggo go shopping. Written September 2003. Occurs about a month after Interrogation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shopping.

**Author's Note:**

> Content: Sean and Viggo go shopping. Written September 2003. Occurs about a month after [Interrogation](http://www.livejournal.com/community/rugbytackle/302788.html).
> 
> Notes on reality of people reading this: Like "Assume the Position", "What's On The Other Side?", "London Calling", and "Interrogation", the creative process for this was fascinating, and the SeanVig muses led us down expected crevices into their minds. In other words, it kind of just happened. As usual, all our roleplaying in comments can be found [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=lannamichaels&keyword=Comments+Roleplaying&filter=all).
> 
> \--
> 
> Originally posted at http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/351610.html and http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/351767.html
> 
> Roleplaying-in-comments post was http://lunasv.livejournal.com/44738.html

Dear Sean,

Once we get over whatever it is we're going through right now with the safewords and the insecurity and things like that, we need to go shopping.

I see a lot of black in your future. *evil plans*

 

Love,  
Viggo

 

PS: How do you feel about [slings](http://www.stockroom.com/j135.htm)?

  
Sweetest Vig,

Insecurity issues tossed out with yesterday's garbage.

Shopping trip sounds nice. I'll clear the credit card out.

 

kisses,  
Sean

P.S. Uh, never thought about 'em. Always up for a new adventure, though, mate.

  
Dear Sean,

Good to know. Did you take them out to the corner, or just the dumpster?

Be ready tonight around eight wearing clothes that you can get out of easily.

 

All my love,  
Viggo

 

P.S. You realize, of course, that you'll be the one in it should I decide to splurge. So give it long, hard thought. feel free to wank.

  
Vig's note, flowing black ink on vellum-thin paper, rested on sofa arm.

_Be ready tonight around eight wearing clothes that you can get out of easily._

Sean sat in loosened drawstring sweats and a T-shirt that should've gone out to the garden shed for rags.

_Give it long, hard thought._

He had been for - he glanced at mantle clock - three hours and 22 minutes. Mind made up.

_Feel free to wank._

Why argue with your lover? Sean pulled the stiff leather brace off his wrist, flexing his fingers in and out of a fist before wrapping them around his cock.

"Sean?" Viggo calls from his studio. "Are you wearing briefs?" Boxers will show under some of the things Viggo has in mind.

"No." He's wearing sweats and T-shirt. Nothing else.

"Then run back up and put on briefs." Sean'll be trying on clothes. Some of them he may not want, or don't fit properly. Hence, briefs.

"Y'know, Vig, y'could've been more specific in your note. Said we were going shopping," he says as he walks back into the living room a few minutes later. "I'd been ready." He does his best imitation of a model on the runway, or it could just be Orlando preening, and shows off the less tattered sweats and tee with matching jacket. "You like?"

"What part of 'need to go shopping' didn't you understand?" Viggo mutters to himself as he watches Sean preen and do that little spin that always looked over-practiced. "I like."

"I thought it meant _tomorrow_, not tonight." Sean finishes his spin, deposits a kiss on Viggo's forehead. "Shoulda known though. You're in your own time zone."

"Stores don't close until ten. We have plenty of time." Viggo returns the kiss, aiming for Sean's nose but catching him more on the cheek.

"You're in charge. I'm just along with the money." The smile's genuine even if the words are rather self-deprecating. "And the car keys."

"Speaking of those...," they're so close that it's not difficult for Viggo to reach into Sean's pocket and lift the keys, "you're not doing any driving at all tonight, young man."

"I can, though. Eric cleared it." Sean doesn't resist giving up the keys, though. While he _can_ drive, it's probably not the smartest thing to be doing. "We could always take the tube downtown. Or'd you hire a driver?" Sean's shaking his head, knowing the answer before he gets it.

"Take the tube there, fine. Take it back with all our packages? Or have to pay off the driver to keep quiet after I maul you in the back seat? Sorry, Sean, I'm driving. I know you love your BMW but, I promise, I won't wreck it. Not while you're in it, at least. Okay?"

"Hold on a sec, then." Sean stopped by the coat rack as they were heading out the door, rummaged through the pocket of his leather jacket and retrieved the bottle of Xanax. "I've ridden with you. Don't think I'm doing it completely coherent ever again."

Viggo grins sheepishly. "Good idea. Need water with that or you'll take them dry?"

"Little things. Just dissolve under me tongue." Sean opens the bottle, shakes out a tiny pill and pops it under his tongue. "Works faster, too." He recaps the bottle and pockets it into his sweats. Can't be sure Viggo's shopping adventure won't jack up his anxiety level. Not that it's a bad thing.

That solved, Viggo leads the way to the car, unlocks the passenger door, then opens it up for Sean. He helps Sean into the car and then goes around to the other side. The blue car's black in the night and soon, Viggo thinks, it'll be filled with black from inside to out. It's a good thought. Sean, with his coloring and his scars, will look so tantalizingly delicious in what Viggo has in mind. The only thing better than dressing up Sean is undressing him. Slowly. Layer by layer.

Tight silk boxers, Viggo adds to his growing mental list. Less functional than cotton, but Sean won't be in them long. Viggo's thankful he just came or he'd be ready to go right now.

Sean settles into the seat, leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxes and essentially ignores Viggo's driving. The Xanax starts to build on the other drugs in his system, making it so he really doesn't care that Viggo takes one corner too quickly or that he doesn't shift into third as smoothly. He wants to ask why they're shopping, but decides against that, too, just letting his mind drift in and out and around fantasies that've been infiltrating his brain. Images of creek and waterfall and a very wet Viggo. He shifts down into the seat, stretching out his legs as much as possible against the floorboard, slides his brace-fitted wrist down his thigh.

Viggo watches Sean out of the corner of his eye. At the next stop sign, Viggo lowers his speed by half and takes the leisurely way to the department store. If Sean's going to wank, let him wank before they arrive. Wouldn't do for the great Sean Bean to walk around Marks and Spencers with an erection.

"You slowed down," Sean says, head still back, eyes still closed, fingertips tracing abstract patterns over the fabric, skimming inner thigh. He'd had his wank before Viggo got home. Didn't mean he still wasn't horny. Probably had something to do with the way Viggo had fondled his ass getting into the car, lingered a second too long finding the seat belt. "You wanting a show?"

"You wanting me to drive right off the road?" Viggo asks, but pulls over onto the shoulder.

Sean senses the car stop. "You know what I was thinking of before you got home?" His hand slips down over cock, still protected by layers of cotton, pause to regain familiarity with tightening balls. "You. Naked. In the garden." Words separated by flicker of fingers. "Overcast day. Shadows painting your body."

Viggo puts the car into park quickly. The last thing he needs is for his foot to jerk onto the acceleration and take them into neverland. "And what are you doing in this fantasy?" Viggo asks.

"Me?" Sean slides his left hand under sweats and briefs, palms his cock and pumps slowly. "I was chasing shadows." Long, exaggerated strokes. "Across your stomach. Down your arm." His breath hitches as his thumb flicks over the head. "Damn near caught one as it swirled your nipple."

Viggo's mouth goes dry. "And how," he does his best to swallow, "were you doing this chasing?" Viggo's willing to bet the farm that Sean's dream included tongues, and open mouths, and kisses. And possibly a blowjob should Sean find a shadow on Viggo's cock.

"That's the funny part." Sean breathes out slowly as he draws closer to climax. Feels it coil, threaten to unleash. "Got me brush and paints out. Swirled and spattered you with a dozen shades of blue. Never quite matched your eyes."

"What sort of base were the paints?" Viggo worries, wondering what Sean covered him with, then remembers that it's a dream, a fantasy, and that if they ever do enact it, Viggo can insist on watercolors.

Sean's breathing becomes more ragged. Then he comes, mostly into his hand, trying to mitigate the inevitable stains, glad for the darkness of the sweats. "Mixed media. Watercolors. Acrylics." He withdraws his hand and pulls his thumb into his mouth, sucking off the saltsweet liquid. "They tasted incredible, though."

Not the only thing. Viggo's hand reaches out to grab Sean's wrist. He brings Sean's hands to his mouth, licking off what's left.

"Remind me to tell you my dreams more often." Viggo's finger licking threatens to unleash a new arousal; Sean mentally tamps it down as Viggo releases his hand. "So, why we shopping anyway? Don't like my wardrobe?"

That's entrapment. "Let's just say it could use a few improvements." Like a raid on the menswear department. Viggo shifts in the driver's seat and puts the parking break on. "Now, aren't you forgetting something?"

Sean bites back the urge to laugh. "Y'know, we coulda stayed home and done this." His voice is light, slight twist of less-than-innocent play, even as he unfastens the seatbelt and shifts to fully face Viggo. He drops his braced arm over Viggo's leg, intentionally brushing the leather-metal contraption over his lover's groin even as his other hand loosens the jeans. "This one of your fantasies? Blowjob in a car."

God, Sean knows what that does to him. Flashes of their interrogation scene pass before Viggo's eyes as the brace brushes against his cock. "Yeah. Except that in it, we're in the backseat."

"Back seat. Hmmm." Sean pulls Viggo's cock free and dips his head down. "I prefer this, but you driving on the freeway, middle of the night." He slips his fingers along the stiffening flesh, letting the Velcro edges of the brace's straps brush where they may. His tongue ghosts over the weeping slit, teasing rather than touching.

Viggo has a wise-ass reply to that somewhere on his tongue, but for the life of him he can't find it as Sean's tongue licks at him delicately. "Fffffuck," is all he can get out. _More_.

Sean laughs, the giggled chortle rippling along the underside of Viggo's cock where Sean's tongue is twirling an abstract pattern. _I'll take that as a please, more, sir._ In the next instant, his mouth settles on the head, burying himself swiftly on Viggo's full length.

Viggo's head crashes against the headrest, his fingers clutch at nothing until they find themselves against Sean's scalp. All he can think of is _more_, _please_, _god_.

Sean bucks his head up just a nudge, pushing into Viggo's hand, silent plea for domination as he licks and sucks, perfectly content in how he can bring Viggo to speechlessness with the proper curling of his tongue.

There's pressure building inside of him and Viggo orders himself not to scream, instead groaning just a little too loudly. Sean, too fucking good at this. Who wants a virgin? Viggo's hand presses down hard, sharply. He knows he can't choke a cocksucker like Sean.

_Breathe normally. Through your nose._ It's a silent mantra as Sean closes his mouth around Viggo's cock, let it slide to the back of his throat. He'd willingly choke himself for the taste, the sensation of Viggo invading his body. He scrapes the brace over sensitized flesh, forcing prickly Velcro loops to caress Viggo's balls. Sean's mind notes the subtle changes in reaction, the indications Viggo is close.

Viggo's hand simultaneous pushes down, just as his hips jerk upward, pushing, thrusting. Sean's mouth is so fucking hot, so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. Another thrust and Viggo's gone, melting back over the upholstery, becoming one with the leather.

Sean's a happy boy, a _very_ happy boy. He greedily swallows Viggo's offering of body and soul, silently waiting for permission to stop serving his lover.

Viggo comes back to himself slowly, makes a mental note as he returns to try out the sex in public thing more often, and realizes that Sean hasn't let go of his cock. Laughing silently, Viggo pulls Sean's head up by the hair. "Thank you, Sean. Delightful as always. Which way to the store? I seem to have lost my bearings."

Sean slides his tongue out, licks at the stray drop of white on his lips and peers over the dashboard, getting his own bearings. "Uh. left at the next bend. Then a couple miles." He straightens Viggo's jeans and settles back into his own seat. "And you're welcome. Anytime." Not something he had to say, but wanted to.

"Oh, I know I'm welcome," Viggo smirks. "Anytime." He shifts the car back into gear. "In your ass, too, or is my welcome just reserved for your mouth?" He takes a left at the next bend, judges distances, and puts cruise control on.

"That's a given, Vig," Sean says without thinking, then pauses as the car shifts into cruise control. "Course you're not thinking of right now, are you? That's a might more tricky with the gear shift."

"That be more tricky considering the fact that I just came. Unless we're talking about getting the gear shift into you. In that case, I have no objection." Viggo smiles as he says it, knowing the remark will probably get him beaned over the head.

"Nutter. Positively." Sean starts to pop Viggo upside the head, but decides better of it, not wanting to do it with his braced arm. "I might be kinky, but I'd definitely safeword at that." He pauses. "Not sure I can pass it off as a skating accident."

"But you love me for putting the thought into your head, don't you? Every time you get into the car from now on, you'll stare at the gear shift and wonder if you could contort your body to fit around it. You'll peak into every surprise I bring home, concerned that I might've visited a scrap heap and salvaged a gear shift with the intention of seeing how far inside you could take it." Viggo doesn't say anything at the skating remark. He has his own private list of things to throw into the car when Sean's not looking, and skating gear is certainly on the list. Viggo's always said Sean was sex on two legs. Sex on wheels sounded just plain kinky.

Sean squirms, not sure how much of it's from the discomfort of imagining how the gear shift would feel or from the knowledge that Vig may very well walk in one day from that scrap heap. And then he lets his brain process the idea, wondering just how much pain it'd cause, would it be good and could he take it. "I love you for every thought you put into my head." Not a direct answer, but good enough. And pretty damned truthful.

"Even the ones that have you tied to the bed with clothespins all over you while I jack off onto your chest?" They're almost there, Viggo can afford to be playful. Sean can't give him the silent treatment as they shop or Sean'll get some pretty horrendous and ill-fitting clothing. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

"Love you for 'em," Sean says quickly. "Don't mean I wanna do 'em."

"So you love me for my intellect, that's what you're saying? Come on, I can take it." Viggo turns into the parking lot and starts scanning for spaces. "Any on your side?"

Sean ignores the first question, which has only a "damned if I do, damned if I don't" choice and focuses on finding a parking space. "Uh, two spaces up. Guy just left."

Viggo nods and pulls into it with minimal jerking and backing up. Shan't scratch Sean's car unless he wants a one-way ticket to an eternally cold bed. "First order of business, shirts. Second order of business, cock and chest covers. Third order of business, everything else. Speak now or forever hold your piece."

"Yes, sir." Sean gets himself out of the car with minimal fuss, makes sure everything's straight and tidy. He's not fussing. One, he knows it'll do no good. Viggo's on a tear and there's no putting it down till it's run its course. Second, in some conceited way, he enjoys the pampering. "Lead on."

Viggo leads Sean into the department store and takes a moment to study the store map. First, menswear. They'll work outward from there. "Third floor."

The lift carries them quickly to the third floor. "Vig," Sean says as they step out, "just wondering, do I get a say in what I try on? Or you just gonna stick me in the dressing room and keep feeding me clothes?"

"Preliminary? Yeah. But then you get stuck in the dressing room. You can veto anything, but you gotta give me a reason. A good reason, not just 'already have this' or 'it's too tight'. And I reserve the right to punish you for vetoing."

The smile is soul-breaking, wide with just a hint of tongue. He can't resist the obvious retort. "You realize that gives me more incentive for vetoing than cooperating." He knows, though, and fully understands that punishment has many layers and not all of them he'd enjoy.

"Not really. I haven't told you what I'll do to you once we're past the checkout."

Sean swallows hard, the visuals running rampant about what he may or may not be getting later. "Okay, Vig, pick out the clothes. No vetoing without a good reason."

Viggo's smile reveals nothing. First stop is formalwear. Viggo takes a shirt of the rack. "Here, try [this](http://www.marksandspencer.com/IWCatProductPage.process?Merchant_Id=1&Section_Id=2422&Product_Id=1133637) one. You don't have a say in colors, sorry."

Sean takes the shirt and puts it over his arm. "I like the color," he says, as if Viggo had expected a defensive response. "What else with it?"

"Shirts first. We'll do pants later." But something catches Viggo's eye. He walks the short distance and takes the pants from the rack. "[These](http://www.marksandspencer.com/IWCatProductPage.process?Merchant_Id=1&Section_Id=813&Product_Id=613591). I can see you in a cockring under these. Or jerking yourself off through the pockets. Have we ever tried that?"

"Not since I was about 17." Sean shakes his head as he drapes the pants over the shirt. "You want me to do this an outfit at a time? Or piling me up with things and then retreating to the fitting room?" Sean's been through this, too many times with the exes, politely smiling as one outfit melded into the next.

"Pile you up with preliminaries. This is when you can choose your own stuff. Then you get locked in the dressing room and I feed you clothes over the door and you get to display them for me. If they look good, we buy them. Simple?"

"Choose me own?" Sean's face lights up as he's distracted by a rack to his left. "Then I like [this](http://www.marksandspencer.com/IWCatProductPage.process?Merchant_Id=1&Section_Id=3441&Product_Id=1141883) and [this](http://www.marksandspencer.com/IWCatProductPage.process?Merchant_Id=1&Section_Id=3440&Product_Id=1121080)," he says, holding up items for Viggo's inspection before adding them to the growing pile of try-on possibilities. "And I need a new one of [these](http://www.marksandspencer.com/IWCatProductPage.process?Merchant_Id=1&Section_Id=1485&Product_Id=967058). You ripped me last good one to shreds."

"That one's blue," Viggo points out, but doesn't protest its addition. Fuck it, it's Sean credit card anyway. "But if I may remind you, there's a reason I ripped it. Best get two."

Sean's grin doesn't diminish as he quickly picks up a second shirt. "What you got against blue? I look damned good in that color." He fingers through the next rack, nothing catching his eye.

"Know you do, but I want you in black, not blue." Viggo pauses. "Find something in black _and_ blue. You look good in that."

Sean turns and leans into Viggo's back. "I prefer you dress me personally in those colors," he says in a low voice. He's close enough to steal a kiss, but he doesn't. "You know the exact shades that look good on me."

Uh uh. He's not going to hurt Sean in public. Too many security cameras, for one. "You look good in all of them, especially when they fade to green and yellow."

"I don't like 'em then," Sean says casually, stepping around Viggo to the clothes rack ahead. "Not nearly as pretty as when they're fresh."

"So walk into doors," Viggo replies. "What about [this](http://www.marksandspencer.com/IWCatProductPage.process?Merchant_Id=1&Section_Id=2424&Product_Id=1098266)?"

"More partial to button-downs, but I like it." Sean takes the shirt, adds it to the growing pile, wonders why stores don't employ enough clerks to walk around behind customers toting and carrying, then realizes that with him and Vig it probably wouldn't be a good idea to have anyone else too close. "Wanna pick some ties? Or are you happy with what I got?"

"Get all they have in black silk and we'll be set for those. Neckties only. I like being able to pull you around by them. And maybe something green."

"Have you ever seen me in anything else?" Sean asks as he turns and walks the short distance to the tie rack. "Not even gonna ask about belts," he mutters to himself, waving off the salesclerk who asks if he needs help. "Just grabbing a few ties." He leaves off asking if they're knot-worthy. Shortly Sean returns to wear he left Viggo with about half a dozen ties, all silk, a couple patterned and only two of them green.

Viggo takes the green ones and holds them up to Sean's eyes. They'll do. They don't glow like his do while contemplating mischief, or glint like Sean's when ordered to go down, but few things do. "You set, or is there something else you want to try on?"

"I think we've exceeded the fitting room limit, so I'll say no. For now."

Viggo blinks in incomprehension, then looks to the sign. "Think they'll go for bribery?"

"Won't need it. Just watch." Sean walks quickly and resolutely toward the fitting room.

"Sir, you," the clerk starts.

"I have a lot of clothes. I know." Sean smiles, consciously turning up the charm. "You see, I'm very bad at narrowing down my choices. And seeing as I can't try on things in the middle of the floor, and I don't want to bother you having to bring them back and forth, this really is the best solution. Isn't it?" He doesn't wait for an answer, but continues walking, disappearing into the dressing area while a 20something clerk stands in confusion, her mouth still open as if she were speaking.

Oh, there are so many reasons he loves Sean. Viggo trots faithfully as his errant lover, nodding his head in acknowledgement to the baffled clerk.

By the time Viggo gets to him, Sean has draped clothes over walls and hooks and is taking off his jacket. "Do you have a preference of where I start, sir?" Sean asks, his eyes meeting Viggo's as he looks.

"Yeah. Strip off except for the socks and briefs, boy. Shirts first, then match them with pants. I hope you don't intend to try on the ties, or I might just have to molest you. And I didn't bring any toys. Fair warning."

Sean follows instructions very well, when he wants to, and he strips down. "No toys? Ever heard of improv?" He's not really wanting to be molested in a public fitting room, but he can't help tempting, or maybe it's just taunting, Viggo. He pulls on one of the dress shirts, having relegated the rugby shirts to a we're-buying-no-need-to-try-on pile. He slowly buttons up the front, doesn't bother with the cuffs. "You like?"

Well, Viggo's has _one_ toy, but he's not going to spoil Sean's surprise. Sean'll get it if he's still being a good boy by the end of the night. Viggo takes Sean's bare wrist in his hand and guesstimates how loose the cuffs could be. "Very much."

"That feels nice." The touch of Viggo's fingers on Sean's wrist isn't enough to excite, well at least not to a point where it'd be a concern, but the tightening motion, nowhere near constricting, is a comfort, a reminder of what caused his other wrist to be bound. "Next shirt?" Sean asks, consciously shifting himself from distracting thoughts. "Or trousers?"

"Shirt." Viggo takes a step backward to give Sean room to strip.

"You just like watching me change clothes," Sean says, lilt in his voice. He shrugs into another shirt, this one slightly less ebon, its darkness muted by a thin silver patterning, sighing not with exasperation but amusement that his lover is determined to dress him as entirely in black as possible. "You know, Vig, we could take the coach to Italy. Shop for clothes." He's concentrating, unconsciously sliding his tongue out as the thought develops. "There's this little shop in Florence that has the best," tongue slides over his lips, "leather. Jackets, trousers, belts."

Viggo's nodding in agreement at Sean's suspicious tone, then he freezes. The play of Sean's tongue over his lips does not go unnoticed, but Viggo can't move for the life of him. "Leather," he croaks. "Leather's good."

"Good, cause you know that belt you really like, the one with the inlaid spiral design," Sean says as he continues trying on shirts, each seeming to meet with Viggo's approval, his voice nonchalant and low, as if he were reading Arthurian tales instead of seducing a lover, "it came from Florence. Handmade. Custom job." He pauses, wondering for a moment whether or not to add the final detail. Decides they've come far enough in the past few weeks to blur the lines again. "Had a matching collar. Once upon a time."

_Had._ Insinuates that it was lost. Or taken away. Privilege revoked upon termination of relationship. Viggo hadn't known Sean liked collars. Or if he wanted one. "Oh? What happened to it?" And was he wearing the belt or getting beaten with it?

"Vig, you want to button that. See if it's okay?" Sean asks as he pulls on one of the more formal shirts, a greyblack with double cuffs before picking up on the ongoing conversation. "Daragh got it in the breakup."

Viggo takes Sean's offered hand and slides the buttons in smoothly. "Any of these need cufflinks?"

"I think there's at least one." Sean looks at the hanging clothes. "Maybe two."

Viggo makes a mental note to investigate the London fetish wear stores. There's got to be _something_ suggestive that can be done with cufflinks. For the moment, however, he makes a noncommittal noise and investigates the various piles of clothing. "Anything needing a different size?"

"No. Everything's fine. You know me pretty well." Sean's voice fades at the last words. It's true. Viggo knows him better than any lover ever has, understands how he works. Accepts he has a past, lovers good and bad. Isn't frightened away by it. "What's next on your list?"

"Well, if you remember your instructions, boy, once we finish with shirts, it's on to intimate apparel. We can switch stores if you want."

"That'd be good. There's a shop down the way where I've bought stuff before."

Viggo nods, surveys the wreckage of the dressing room. "Let's make this simple. Anything you're vetoing?"

"Not a thing, sir," Sean snaps out.

Viggo's posture straitens slightly. "Then gather up the clothes, boy, and we'll pay for your new wardrobe."

Sean quickly pulls back on his sweats, then gathers up the shirts, trousers and ties and deposits them with the clerk, who's seemingly over her confusion and positively beaming at the sales she's getting ready to ring up. Sean doesn't even look at the receipt. Doesn't want to know the total. Just signs the paper and pockets the credit card. As they're taking the packages to the car, he explains that the intimates shop is just a couple blocks down the way, and there are several other good shops in the same stretch.

The silence is companionable as they walk along the street, not an awkwardness to be filled with patter, although Sean has questions he might ask, comments he could follow up on. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, suddenly very self-conscious of the brace. The physical therapy was going well, feeling and movement coming back easily, fast enough that he nearly forgot how he'd hurt it in the first place and found himself craving Viggo's more painful touches.

Viggo has a set agenda and he mentally reviews it as they walk through the electric doors into the store. He's going to be dressing Sean in gray as well as black here and making sure to get as many of each purchase as possible. Viggo hates having to scrounge around for things to rip off Sean. There is much that could be said for unwrapping gifts.

A young man looks up from folding t-shirts as the door buzzer sounds. "Hi, Mr. B. Doing alright?"

"Fine, Bobby." Sean walks in, notices there only a couple other customers in the middle-sized shop, which looks like an International Male catalog explosion. "This is me friend, Vig. Gotta restock."

"Sure thing." Bobby nods. "There's some new stuff in the back, not even outta the boxes, if you wanna look."

Viggo picks up a package of [briefs](http://www.gap.com/asp/Product.asp?wdid=105520&wpid=141294) from the display while Sean looks around. Making sure that Sean isn't looking at him, Viggo stuffs a pair of [boxers](http://www.quickfoot.com/Merchant2/merchant.mv?Screen=PROD&Store_Code=QS&Product_Code=SB1) under the package.

Sean stands at a robes rack, looking at the [outfit](http://www.internationalmale.com/HanoverAssets/intmale/product_images/pb15ux.jpg) and then at Vig, pondering the possibilities. _Definitely would look like crap on me, but it might work on him._ He moves past it to the [black silk pajamas](http://www.internationalmale.com/HanoverAssets/intmale/product_images/zp004zz.jpg), which he quickly finds in his size. "Haven't had a pair in years," he says as Viggo walks up beside him. "They alright?"

Viggo can see what Sean's thinking and the 'no' is almost out before he sees the silk. Just visualizing his Sean wrapped up in that is enough to get some stirrings where none have the right to be. "Yeah," Viggo says. "They're alright." Matching sheets are firmly tacked onto Viggo's shopping list.

"Thanks, luv. You find everything you want me to have? Anything special we getting?"

"Just some more stuff." Viggo piles some extra boxers and [undershirts](http://www.gap.com/asp/Product.asp?wdid=105520&wpid=141302) in the basket. "As for special, you'll have to excuse me for a moment."

"Why does that worry me?" Sean sighs as Viggo turns away. "You and _special_ always ends up with me in compromising positions."

Viggo snickers. 'Compromising' means something a little different this time. Viggo grabs some [pads](http://www.target.com/gp/detail.html/ref=br_1_2/601-0318329-2009764?asin=B000066OXK) from a display near the back of the store and saunters back to Sean, keeping the package behind his back.

"You're not gonna let me see, are you?" Sean tries to sneak a peek behind Viggo's back. "Keeping secrets?"

"Keeping many secrets," Viggo replies. "Least of which is what I have. Besides, I have no doubt you'll take them the wrong way." Though kneeling pads might be a good idea. Linoleum _can_ hurt after twenty minutes.

Sean's genuinely puzzled, wondering what he could take the wrong way about anything from this store. But he lets it go. "I'm partial to secret number 21," he says cryptically as he turns toward the counter. "We finished here?" He lays down his selections, pulls out his credit card and hands it to Bobby.

"That Orlando wanted to buy you a catfish for Christmas? Or that I lost the portrait you drew of me?" Viggo pauses. "Yeah, we're done here."

Sean ignores the catfish comment. Chalks it up to Orlando's insanity levels, which are higher than all the Fellowship put together. "You lost it?" He turns his head. "First thing I've drawn in years that wasn't for some charity. And you lost it?"

Oh, shit. "Didn't lose it, Sean, so much as misplace it. It's somewhere back in LA. I think in the bathroom?" Or in the kitchen. Or in the bedroom. Or in the studio, under a pile of half-finished canvases. Or anywhere.

"Here's the card, Mr. B."

Sean's happy for the momentary distraction. It keeps him from erupting. "Uh, thanks." He's not happy about Viggo's answer. The sketch meant a lot to him. He thought it did to Viggo, too. As tempted as Sean is to storm out of the store, he's not going to. He just stands staring into space as the rest of the items are rung up, not even caring to peek at the extras Viggo bought. For the moment, they don't matter much.

"Sean," Viggo says as they walk back to the car, mood of the evening broken. "Sean, please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forgotten where it is. I should have mentioned it before. I'm sorry. Sean, please. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Viggo," Sean says coolly, biting off the syllables of Vig's name rather than slurring them out like he normally does. "You had other things on your list."

Viggo pops the trunk and loads the bags in. "It doesn't matter. We can get them another time, or not at all. They're not necessary." _Sean's_ necessary, what they have is necessary. Everything else can be replaced.

Viggo closes the door louder than he meant to. "Do you hear me, Sean? They're not necessary. Nothing is. Nothing but you. I'm sorry, I'm very sorry. I'm excruciatingly sorry. It was stupid and callous and idiotic of me. And I'm sorry."

"And I said 'It's fine, Viggo'. Really. I forgive you your," Sean pauses, contemplating the right word, "your indiscretion." He's hurt more than angry, agitated by something he can't change, Viggo's nonchalant bohemian approach to life, something he wouldn't change even if he could. "You wanted to shop. We'll continue shopping." Not cold enough to freeze the moat, but there was a decided chill in Sean's voice.

Viggo closes the door louder than he meant to. "Do you hear me, Sean? They're not necessary. Nothing is. Nothing but you. I'm sorry, I'm very sorry. I'm excruciatingly sorry. It was stupid and callous and idiotic of me. And I'm sorry."

"And I said 'It's fine, Viggo'. Really. I forgive you your," Sean pauses, contemplating the right word, "your indiscretion." He's hurt more than angry, agitated by something he can't change, Viggo's nonchalant bohemian approach to life, something he wouldn't change even if he could. "You wanted to shop. We'll continue shopping." Not cold enough to freeze the moat, but there was a decided chill in Sean's voice.

Viggo wonders if lying to Sean is a viable option right now. He figures a little white lie won't kill anyone. And, if it does, he'll be too numb from Sean's tone to notice. "I forget my list. Let's go home, Sean. Please?"

Sean would smile if he weren't so pissed. Viggo doesn't lie well. The man never makes lists; just keeps it all in his damned head. But it won't hurt to let him have his way, for the moment. "Of course, Viggo." Sean opens his own door and slides into the passenger seat, resisting the urge to just take the keys and drive the damned car himself. He's not so angry as to see he isn't quite back to driving form yet.

Uh oh. Warning bells go off in Viggo's mind. Even in his best of moods, Sean isn't this pliant. Either he's playing the vengeful sub, or there's something else up his sleeve. Nothing less than he's deserved, of course, and he knew punishment would begin immediately, but dammit if it doesn't ache just a little. Viggo sits down in the driver's seat and contemplates the road for a long moment before turning on the ignition.

Sean sits silently through the drive, not moving, staring straight ahead. He's mulling over exactly how he could make Viggo understand how much he hurts, force Viggo to his knees. But that's just the tiny vengeance corner of his brain. The larger portion of gray matter is processing how to do it with someone who won't sub. Then there's the odd-shaped piece floating in the cerebellum, threatening to dive into the medulla oblongata, that wants to leave Viggo completely in the dark, let him figure out how to make Sean happy again.

"Pull into the garage," he says flatly as they near the house. "Not to the front door."

Viggo nods, obeys. He treasures the sound of Sean's voice on the air. He loves the way it sounds, its timbre, its tone. He turns the car off and hands the keys to Sean.

Sean drops the keys in the console before he gets out of the car, knowing he can toggle garage security and not be worried about anyone getting in. His brain cells, those scattered and smattered ones he still has working, haven't reached consensus on what to do with Viggo, but they've come together enough to form at least a sentence or two. He stares across the car, watching Viggo get out, waits till he turns to face him.

"If I asked you why, would you have an answer?" It's no different, in Sean's mind, than the question Viggo has asked him time and time over, forced Sean to reason through, come up with an explanation. For the pain, the betrayal, the love. It's dawned on Sean that he never asked Viggo. And a secret revealed seems a good place to start.

"Why what, Sean?" Viggo answers evenly, if not calmly. "Why I lost it? Shit, I didn't mean to. I didn't wake up one morning and say that today I'm going to set out to lose the one gift Sean's ever given me that meant something. I put it somewhere where I'd never lose it, then forgot where it was. And things got moved around for one reason or another, so when I went back to look where it was, it wasn't there anymore. It wasn't intentional, Sean, I swear."

"I know." That's a perfect answer, Sean thinks, exactly what he expects, rambling and coherent only if you listen between the words. "It was an accident, a poor choice." The tone's slightly softer than before. "Not ever." Words said, emotion out, left to dissipate in the carbon monoxide fumes if they chose. Sean turns slowly to head upstairs into the house. "I never said what you did was intentional, Viggo," the last nearly inaudible.

"I know," Viggo answers softly. "And you know I would never do that to you. Ever."

"No." Sean stops on the first step, spins around on heel. "You would never, ever do that to me." Sean quickly covers the distance between them and shoves Viggo hard back into the wall, not giving him a second to recover before he pushes his braced arm into Viggo's throat, leveraging his body to pin him. "Not like I do to you." Sean leans in, grabs Viggo's wrist as he starts to raise his arm, slams it back into the unyielding plasterboard. "Everything I do that hurts you is intentional." The words are biting, spat out in sharp edges. "If I forget, it's because I set out to hurt you." With each syllable, Sean pushes harder, knowing and not caring for that instant just how much pain he's causing.

Viggo panics, but Sean doesn't brook any struggle. He has scrapes on his arm and he's finding it hard to breathe, whether from the panic or Sean's arm, he doesn't know. He's between a rock and a hard place and fuck it, but Sean's right. "I'm sorry," he whimpers. "I'm so sorry." He doesn't notice the tears falling softly, which is good, because he can't wipe them away. "Fuck it, Sean, I'm sorry."

"Then answer the question, Vig." Pressure firm, not enough to cut off air supply but to make each breath painful. "Why is everything I do so intentional in your eyes?" Leather tight against flesh. "Why was it betrayal instead of a poor choice?" Velcro fasteners abrading skin. "Why won't you touch me like this anymore?" Sean's fingers visegrip Viggo's wrist, rubbing it into the concrete nubs.

Viggo feels it as each hair of his arm is caught and pulled out, as the concrete digs into him. Even if he doesn't bleed, the marks will be there. He's close to hyperventilating, he can't fucking move, and he hasn't felt this boxed in since he almost drowned in Rohan. The world is closing in on him and noise is slowly dimming, drowning out. All there is is Sean's accusing face, and his low growl.

Silence is deafening, they say, especially when you don't want to hear what's not being said. Sean sees in Viggo's eyes an unfamiliar fear. "Nothing I did was intentional," he says, letting go of Viggo's wrist. "Not then. Not now." He pulls off, steps back.

Viggo's legs buckle, bend, and he floats somewhere between flying and falling, the neutral place where fear and euphoria become one.

"You don't get to pass out, Vig." Demons exorcized for the moment, Sean watches as Viggo slips down the wall, catches him just before he falls completely. "Not that lucky."

"I don't pass out," Viggo mumbles, "I just panic. I panic until it's over and then I panic some more. Luck has nothing to do with it."

"Don't stop then." Sean shifts the limp weight, taking most of it on his hip as he straightens Viggo back up. "Cause it ain't over." Not really meant as a threat, but Sean realizes seconds after the words leave his mouth that it probably sounds that way, veiled and couched in snarky delivery.

Viggo nods. Nothing less than he's deserved, really. He's known in the back of his head that he'd pay for losing the sketch. Now the chickens were just coming home to crap all over the shed. "I'm sorry," he repeats. It's his mantra and it's the one thing he won't let go.

"Words, Viggo," Sean says as he walks them toward the steps. Slow, precise movements. "You know the problem with words? They fight the brain to get off the tongue. And there's no way to put them back." Sean's own mind isn't clear on who he's talking about, or which words. He meant the ones he said, pent-up emotions and self-anger needing to be unleashed. "They're left hanging in the air, carrying the weight of the universe."

Viggo lets himself be led. The world is expanding and the grass on Sean's front lawn is a deep purple from the street lights. "Actions speak louder." He's heard it somewhere, can't remember where, but it's good enough to leave hanging in the air.

Sean hears, but says nothing else till they're in the house. In the foyer, he stops, half-props Viggo against the small table just to the right of the large mirror. He stares at Viggo's reflection, studying the marks he left. Leaning in, hands flat on the table, nearly holding Viggo up with the weight of his body pressing forward, Sean rests his chin on Viggo's shoulder. "Actions leave a trail of just how loudly you were speaking." He kisses the bruise welling up on the curve of Viggo's neck. "Do you like that?"

Viggo stares at himself in the mirror, too bright in the poorly lit room. He tries smiling, frowning, wondering how much of who he is depends on what's outside. He isn't sure what Sean's talking about. Did he like the expression, the phrasing, the kiss? Something not even spoken aloud? "I don't like pain," he says instead.

" I know that very well, Viggo. I'm the one who wears black and blue." Words oozed out, tinged with something shy of anger, this side of animosity. Sean slides his fingers up over Viggo's hands, turns the wrist over, traces the blood-lined scratches. "You're mine. I don't get to mark you. But you're mine. As much as I'm yours." Sean lifts Viggo's wrist from the table, bends the arm, pulls the flesh to his mouth. He kisses the wound, then licks it, drying blood giving way under his tongue's pressure. "Tonight, I want it all. I want you to suck me, then fuck me. Pour yourself into me until there's nothing left to give." All the while, he stares at their reflections, not having a clue what he's looking for, hoping to see what he needs. "Then tomorrow morning, we'll discuss penance for a lost portrait."

Viggo keeps his head low, eyes to the side to avoid the mirror, watching Sean's mouth, Sean's lips, Sean's caresses. His wrist stings and Sean's rough tongue only aggravates the feeling. Viggo doesn't like pain. He understands Sean's attraction, but he doesn't share it. And that was always ok, because Sean never wanted to hurt his Vig.

Viggo doesn't have words anymore. He shuffles back slightly from the table and frees his arm from Sean so he can use it to brace himself as he gets to his knees. There's nothing submissive in this, he tells the part of him that's still panicking from not being able to move. This isn't submission, this is keeping Sean happy.

"Not here," Sean says, blocking Viggo's movement. "Upstairs. Our room. After you've cleaned up." He brushes stray wisps of honeygold hair out of Viggo's face. "This isn't submission, Vig. I promised I wouldn't try that again, and I stick by that." Sean slowly steps back, making sure Viggo's steady before he'll move off completely. "This is just me wanting you very badly."

Viggo pauses somewhere between standing and kneeling, then lets himself be raised. A shower sounds nice. Preferably with Sean. "I always want you."

"Think you can climb the stairs?" Sean barely gets the words out before he's laughing. Viggo's usually the one asking that question. "I'd offer to carry you, but not sure that's real smart."

Viggo isn't sure why Sean's laughing, only that he's smiling for the first time since Viggo shot his mouth off, so that's good. "Stairs are fine."

"Good." Sean notes the slightly puzzled look on Viggo's face. "Means you're not hurt that bad." The smile is just barely there, a hint of mischievous amusement. Sean's not at all sure where his head is at the moment. He's still irritated about the sketch, frustrated about the past few months and not feeling nearly as much guilt about going off at Viggo than he thinks he should. Maybe it's the shock that Viggo didn't lash back at him. It'll wear off, he's sure of it, and come morning he'll be tripping through guiltland. But, for now, the uncertain emotions are a warm ember keeping his body on edge. "Shower or bath?" Sean moves two steps ahead.

That one's easy. Viggo's never been one for baths. "Shower. With you?"

"With me?" Sean turns from the top of the stairs. "Trust me enough to get you naked under water on slippery tile?" The smile's downright effusive by this time.

Viggo frowns. "Of course I trust you. Why shouldn't-oh. Sorry." He seems to be doing a lot of that tonight. But how many times will he have to say it before Sean believes him?

"You do realize that's the most overused word in the universe." Sean's talking aloud as he walks through the master bedroom into the oversized bath. "No one really means it when they say it. They think they do." He turns on the water, tests, adjusts, gets to just the right temperature before toggling the shower. "Being sorry has three parts." He's stripping and talking as Viggo makes his way into the room. "You know what you did, you understand why it was wrong and you resolve never to do it again." Sean toes out of his trainers, kicks them into a corner. "First two parts are easy. It's the last one we keep tripping up on."

Viggo gets himself down to skin quickly and quietly. He knows he'll never do it again, if only because he knows Sean will never gift him with another sketch. Sean's like that.

Sean couldn't stop his reaction, even if he wanted to, lust in eyes, tongue sliding over lips and teeth, cock hardening. Viggo's gorgeous. Was the first day he saw him, in that odd halfAragorn-halfViggo state, plainclothes and sword. He pulls the curtain back, lets Viggo take the initiative.

Viggo smiles shyly at Sean and then steps into the tub. He loves the fact that he can always elicit that reaction from Sean. The water streams down over him and he leads into the wall.

Sean steps in behind Viggo, slowly places his hands on Viggo's shoulders, letting them glide down the arms and pulls Viggo's hands up, placing the palms flat against the tile. "You're beautiful this way." Sean easily diverts water over Viggo's wrist with one hand, gently sluicing out the wounds, while the other hand finds its way down Viggo's side to rest on his hip. "But you know that, don't you? You know exactly what you do to me. Why I'm addicted to you."

Viggo allows himself to be positioned against the tiles, enjoying the feeling of Sean taking care of him. He's so rarely seeded control to his lover that he's almost forgotten the way it feels to have someone help you through everything.

Hands glide over wet flesh, fingers tracing muscle and bone. Sean presses gently against Viggo's back. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry for what I did in the garage," he whispers as water caresses them both. "It would be a lie. And that's the last thing we need between us now."

"I know," Viggo whispers, though he'd wished for something more than an acknowledgement that Sean went overboard.

Sean presses his hands into the small of Viggo's back, barely fitting as he moves away just enough, kneading away the kinks. "Vig, what I said about it not being intentional. That was true. Except for then." He drops a light kiss on Viggo's shoulder. "I wanted to hurt you. In the garage, when I went off and at you, I had every intention of pushing it till you gave in."

Viggo's breath catches and he forces himself to keep going. Sean _didn't_ keep going. Sean didn't. "What stopped you?" he whispers. He's not sure if he wants to know the answer, but the question is vital.

"I'm not exactly sure. You didn't fight back. You didn't try to take control." Sean's hands move out, over hips and thighs, pushing soapy water down Viggo's body. "You'd've stood there and taken all my anger." Sean slips his arms around Viggo's waist, presses tightly against his back. "Complete submission, Vig. You were so close and it scared the hell out of me."

The words 'I don't submit' are at the tip of Viggo's tongue, but he closes his mouth firmly. If Sean thinks going into claustrophobic panic is submission, let him think that. Perhaps then he won't do it again.

Sean knows Viggo well enough to know the words he's not saying. "I know. You _don't_ submit," heavy emphasis on the negative, almost too much. "It doesn't matter. Really. I relented." Then he lets actions follow words, releasing his grip on Viggo's body, backing off, turning out of the shower's spray. He steps out, grabs a towel off the pile of freshly laundered ones in the corner. "Take your time, Vig. I'll be in bed when you're ready."

Everything's moving too far, too fast. Viggo isn't sure exactly what's going on, except that he's got an appointment to blow and then fuck Sean and he's not going to miss that. He dries himself off with a few quick motions of the terrycloth towel, and then walks hesitantly out of the bathroom.

Sean pulls the bed's coverlet down, folds it roughly and stretches out on the sheets. Arms out, fingers curving along the ridges of the headboard's iron slats. Eyes closed, mind focusing on where he is and what he wants, pushing aside what he can't have, won't ask for, shouldn't even desire. He hears Viggo's soft padding, tentative and hesitant if footfalls can sound that way.

The war rages within Sean. Explain everything? Leave Vig in doubt, let him unravel the mystery? Sean doesn't like being an open book, just sometimes. He stays silent, sensing the words he'd use would sound like orders to Vig's ears. And that would take him out of role, wouldn't it?

Viggo climbs onto the bed cautiously and slowly makes his way between Sean's legs. "Anything special?" he asks quietly. "Or the usual?"

"Tie my hands," Sean says, matching Viggo's voice level, not wanting to disturb the room's quietness. He keeps his eyes closed, not sure he wants to see Viggo's face, almost afraid of the reaction. "Please, Vig."

Viggo nods, wordless. The 'light' stuff is kept in a couple shoeboxes under the bed. Strips of old undershirts, those worn silk ties, stuff that doesn't hurt. Viggo pulls out the old Adidas box and takes the lid off. He binds Sean's hands quickly and efficiently, leaving the knots loose enough that Sean could free himself easily.

Sean tests the bindings. "Not very tight." Words not malicious, just put out into space. He tries to keep any taunting tone out of them. "Afraid of hurting me?"

"I don't trust myself tonight," Viggo replies.

"I trust you." Sean tilts his head back into the pillows.

_That's not the point._ Viggo doesn't argue the point. He brushes his hand against the knots and then trails his fingers lower until he finds himself back above Sean's cock.

_Damn him. It's not so fucking much to ask._ Sean's mind rages while his body resigns itself to Viggo's touch. _Need so badly. Too light._ He can't force Viggo back to where they were months ago. It has to be Viggo's decision.

Viggo starts with Sean's foreskin, tugging lightly at it with his teeth. He pulls it out slightly and begins to nibble under it.

Sean's body jerks, instinctive at the pressure of teeth on too-sensitive flesh. "Yes," he hisses out on a breath. "Vig, please. Hard. Don't hold back."

Viggo nibbles his way down Sean's cock until he reaches the base. He knows he isn't as good at this as Sean is, but he can do his best. Taking a deep breath, Viggo moves in two quick motions, deepthroating Sean.

_God. Yes. Perfect._ Sean clutches the iron slats, his bindings shredding with the abrasion. He knows he can rip through them. Doesn't want to. Even though free hands would mean he could clutch Viggo's head instead, lace fingers in finehair strands and hold him down. Sean bites his lips against the urge. That would be controlling him. "That's right, Vig. God, you do that," ragged breath, "so well. More."

Viggo bites down lightly in a half-hearted attempt to remind Sean who was supposed to be in charge. Sean smelled nice down here and Viggo inhaled Sean's curls deeply.

"Damn," Sean yelps at the bite. _Can you tease him into taking control? How far can you go, Sean?_ "That's right. So good." He licks drying lips, swallows hard. "You should do this more often."

Viggo growls around Sean's cock and pulls himself off until only half of Sean's cock is in his mouth. Viggo's hands reach around and tighten around Sean's balls.

Response. "Oh, shite, that's good." Sean smiles, makes a lateral switch in tactics. "Sure you don't sub, Vig?" Sean says just within hearing level.

_Oh, you are so dead, pet._ The job is to bring Sean off with his mouth, not to put up with this. Viggo pulls away completely and looks up with all seriousness into Sean's eyes. "It is generally not a good idea to piss off the guy with the family jewels between his teeth."

"It's not? I hadn't that." Sean raises his head, smile broad. "Take me down, Vig. Put me in my place."

So that's what the little slut was up to. Viggo might've known. Viggo slaps Sean's cock roughly and digs his fingernails into Sean's hips. "Don't tempt me, boy."

There's an audible gasp at the strike, a jerk as the nails bite into flesh. And a small sigh of familiar desire. "Tempt you? Into doing what you really want to do. Is that so bad?"

"For you?" Viggo pauses and takes the alligator clips from the bed pockets. He fastens them to Sean's nipples without hesitation. "Yes."

The pain is excruciating, moreso than usual because it's been so long since Sean's had the clips on, but so welcomed since it's a step in the right direction. "Yes," Sean hisses out, "sir."

Viggo tugs on them, stretching Sean's nipples obscenely. They'll keep, Viggo notes with approval. "Now, behave."

"And what if I don't," Sean grates out between hitched breaths. It's taking a few minutes to adjust to the burning sensation.

"Don't ask questions," Viggo growls and then swallows Sean again.

"Don't ask questions." Sean shiftsquirms as his cock slides down Viggo's throat. _So fucking wonderful._ "Don't give orders." He twists his wrists, trying to tighten the too-loose knots, grasping cool iron. "What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?"

'Shut up and get sucked,' but Viggo isn't relinquishing his hold that easily. He hollows his cheeks, tightens his throat around Sean, and swallows hard.

"closesofuckingcloseyesmorehardervigneed." Words slammed together in Sean's brain, tripping out of his mouth. His fingers are routing out new grooves in the headboard's iron rails. "nottightdamn." He curses Viggo for not making the knots tighter. But it's so good, so right, so much of what he's been missing. His body spasms under him, coils. So close. "nowvigplease."

To let him come or not let him come, that is the question. On the one hand, he was a naughty boy before. On the other hand, Viggo has a lot to make up for, and Sean _did_ shock him out of his melancholy. Viggo places a hand behind Sean's knee and squeezes, letting Sean know he can come.

There's a sigh of, Sean isn't sure what it is. Relief? That Viggo's letting him come. Regret? That Viggo didn't make him wait, hold him back. Both. Neither. It doesn't really matter as the release comes. Sweet and swift and more intense than anything Sean has felt in weeks. His body convulses, arches, holds onto the contact till the last second.

Sean bites, sucks in his upper lip, bites harder against the scream swelling inside, conscious it takes a great deal more effort to bring blood than most people realize.

Viggo swallows, careful to get all of it down. There's something powerful about having a man's cock in your mouth and something even more powerful about knowing you've given him enough pleasure for him to come.

"Vig, want you." Sean thinks he says the words aloud. Or maybe it's just the echo in his brain, which is exhausted from processing the evening's overload and thankful that orgasm is physical and not mental. He knows he had fucking on his list somewhere after sucking. "More. Please."

Never let it be said that Viggo turns down an offer like that. "You need time to recuperate," Viggo asks softly, "or should I sink into right here, right now?"

Raising his head is an impossibility, Sean notes as he consciously considers the smirk he'd like to give Viggo. "nowhardfastwhatever." Short breath. "justfuckme."

Sean must be desperate. Viggo's never heard him slur so badly before. It's endearing as hell. Now, just where did he put the lube?

Air in, air out. Sean forces his breathing to a slower pace, tries to concentrate. Viggo's searching bedpockets. _Must be looking for lube._ Resisting the urge to tell Vig to just forget the lube and fuck him, he centers himself enough to offer a bit of guidance. "Not ina pocket. Floor." Enough knowledge. Doesn't need to explain that it's there because Sean didn't bother to put it back where it belonged.

Viggo's already figured out that it's not in any of the black bedpockets that they had bought for such purposes. The lube lies between the bed and the nightstand and Viggo gets enough on his fingers so he can start prepping Sean.

"Damn ties," Sean mutters. "Fucking hate 'em." If he pulls too hard, he'll snap 'em or loosen the knots even more. And his fingers by now have creases from the wrought ironwork. He shiftsquirms, realigning his body, his head fighting with the pillows for leverage to push.

Viggo gets two fingers in, scissors them. He wants Sean to stretch around him and he wants it to hurt, but not that much. Viggo slicks himself and wipes his hand off on Sean's stomach. It takes him a moment to position himself and Sean and to line himself up. Sean wanted a hard fucking. He'll get one.

Tongue sneaks out to swipe at bite-swollen lips, just long enough for Viggo's fingers to slide in and out of Sean. _So quick. Almost no prep._ Exactly what Sean wants. "Do't, Vig. No mercy." _Permission given_ not that Viggo needs it.

Encouragement is nice, Viggo thinks fuzzily as he slams into Sean in one harsh motion. From zero to sixty. Viggo has to wait a moment to catch his breath before he can move.

Sean's had the wind knocked out of him on numerous occasions, but never quite like when Viggo fucks it out of him. His head bangs against the iron slats, pillows no cushion as they've slid too much, as his body is literally slammed up the bed. _Fuckin' great._ And when Viggo momentarily pauses, Sean pushes his hips down, ignoring the pain of harsh penetration, or rather, savoring it, willing his body not to accommodate too quickly to the bittersweet sensation.

Viggo catches his breath just in time to feel Sean fuck himself on him. _The man's going to drive me right out of my fucking mind._ Viggo meets Sean's pushing with a thrust of his own, burying himself deep as he can in Sean's warm tightness.

By this time, the usually cool wrought iron is heating under Sean's clutching grip. "fuckhelldamn," he hiss-slurs as he releases his hands, wraps them in the slack of the ties and repositions on the slats, wedging his wrists into the space between the carved railings for a better hold. _better. just barely._

Viggo pulls himself out completely and then, not giving Sean a chance to adjust to the absence, pushes himself balls-deep inside Sean.

Sean jerks at the invasion, the oh-so-welcomed assault, not loose enough that it doesn't hurt a bit, and coupled with the slow, steady burn of the clips, he's sinking deeper into that headspace he relishes.

Viggo repeats the motion a few more times then pauses, just enjoying the feel of Sean all around him. So fucking great, this.

Sean's tugging and twisting finally proves too much and the worn bindings on his right hand fray and pull apart. "Damn." He sighs as he rests the arm between the slats just barely wide enough apart to support his wrist without pushing it. "Don't stop now, Vig. Please. It's so good."

Viggo wasn't intending to stop. He savors the feeling for one more moment before pulling out halfway and then slamming in so hard that he has to grit his teeth.

Sean's head hits the iron railings again from the force Viggo uses, but he's not complaining. He's reveling in it, grinding against the assault, forcing as much contact as he can. It's damn near perfection..

Sean's head thumps against the bed and Viggo really should back off, go slower, but he's not in the mood. He wants to fuck Sean through the bed, off the bed, remind him just who is in charge in their relationship. Remind him just who he loves, who he wants, who he wakes up next to. Remind him who he belongs to. And that's Viggo.

"Harder," Sean grunts on a quick breath. "Please. Vig." He's panting harder as the intensity of Viggo's thrusts increases. He bangs his wrist against the headboard, fighting with himself to keep the hand wrapped in silk and around wrought instead of grasping at Viggo.

Harder? Viggo is doubtful that he can, but he tries. He slams so hard into Sean that it hurts _him_, that there's a pleasant burn in his cock, and Viggo whimpers.

Sean aches through and through, and it feels so damned good, better than the broken wrist. He's riding the crest of a hurricane swell of painarousal and it's what he has been missing.

Sean clenches around him and it's just enough to send Viggo over the edge. He lies panting on top of Sean, hoping it was enough, that he was good enough.

Sean tugs quickly on the bindings at his left hand, rips the silk and jerks his hand free. Not that he necessarily wants to be free. It's more like it's coming loose anyway and his movement finishes the shredding. Viggo's weight presses into the nipple clips, sending a spiral of new pain through Sean's chest. _So fucking good._

Viggo groans at the clips dig into his skin a little. He'd move, but he doesn't have the will power.

Minutes pass, Sean slowly moves his hands down, brushes them across Viggo's shoulders. "Welcome back, lover," he whispers.

Viggo lifts his head up and smiles into Sean's eyes. "Morning yet, or do you need to clean off?"

Sean's comfort level of the nipple clips dissolves with Viggo's last move. "Being clean's highly overrated," Sean says, "but I wouldn't mind you shifting enough to get the clips."

Viggo's tempted to leave them in, just because, but in the morning Sean's going to want revenge for a sketch and, besides, it's not all that safe to keep them on that long. Viggo pushes himself up slightly and positions his fingers. A quick squeeze and lift and the first one's off.

Sean winces at the pain of removal. "Fuck't. Something coming off shouldn't hurt that good."

Viggo repeats the actions on Sean's other nipple, and tries for his lover's trademark evil grin. "Want me to kiss and make better?"

Small stab of pain, then warmth. "Only if you're gonna bite." Sean does the grin so much better. "What I want is you toss out those damned ties. Don't do fuck for holding me down."

"They're there to test your control. To see if you don't move even if you can," Viggo reminds him gently before biting down around Sean's left nipple.

"Fuck control. You know I ... ow," Sean responds to the bite. "Damn, that's good." He wonders if Viggo's finally getting back to his old self. "You think," he has to brave the question, no matter the answer, "you might want to hurt me more?" Sean leaves it open-ended. He knows it's something they have to talk about.

Hmmm...no truthful answer to that. Then there's the way Sean responds when Viggo does something so little and easy. Viggo works the nub between his teeth and sucks roughly on it.

Sean can take that as a yes, but he doesn't. Maybe he's pushing. "Vig. Please. Talk." Or maybe he's just unsure of where they are. He swipes silk-bound wrists across Viggo's cheeks. "Could you do more if I wanted it?" _Can you go back to hurting me without feeling guilty?_ is what Sean leaves unspoken.

With a lingering regret, Viggo pulls himself off Sean's nipple. "Depends on what more is." He'd be content to just eat Sean all night.

"Well, I'm not asking you to break my wrist again. Not anytime soon." Sean's intent on spilling out what he's been holding in, not sure when he'll have the chance again. "I want it like it was. You forcing me to my knees. Pulling out every emotion I don't want to feel. Giving my body pain it doesn't understand or think it can take. Making me take it." Quick breath. "I want you, Vig, completely."

Viggo turns that over in his mind. Sean's been fixated on his wrist and, yeah, Viggo knows he's been obsessing over it, but he broke it because Sean wanted him to break it. He thought he was just giving Sean time to rest and recover from an extremely painful scene. Apparently Sean had taken his distance to mean disinterest. "Right now," he says clearly, "I'm going to chew on your nipples. After that, I might have some fun with your belly button. Feel free to fall asleep any time. I'm not getting out of bed to get a paddle, or anything like that. Plugs are in the nightstand, I think."

"But if I got outta bed and got 'em," Sean starts, willingly digging the hole he's jumped into deeper, "you'd use 'em?" Viggo's attention to that one nipple causes Sean to shift, whimper just a smidge. "Wouldn't want to distract you from your mission. Nipples and navel and all."

"You, Sean Bean, are not moving. If you can somehow magic up extra long arms, yeah, I'll use 'em on you. Otherwise, you'll just have to be content with my teeth."

Exactly what he wants. Command. Specific and direct. "Yes, sir," Sean snaps out, settling in under the weight of Viggo's body. "Whatever master wants."

He never gets tired of hearing Sean call him 'sir'. It's the reason why Sean locked away all the Sharpe movies and refused to tell him where they were. But being called master is something different. Sean's never bandied that title about, and Viggo's strangely touched. "Good boy, Sean," Viggo smiles.


End file.
